


Behind the Scenes: The Ridiculous

by CrlkSeasons



Series: Thirty Days Onward [14]
Category: Star Trek Voyager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrlkSeasons/pseuds/CrlkSeasons
Summary: When I say ridiculous, I do mean ridiculous.If life is a soap opera, why does the crew need sonic showers?“Fun will now commence.” (Seven of Nine, Ashes to Ashes)





	Behind the Scenes: The Ridiculous

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. It helps if you know that in the episode, Spirit Folk, Tom turned Harry’s holographic date into a cow.
> 
> 2\. For trivia fans, the names of the soap operas in this story are mangled versions of real soap operas on which at least one actor from Voyager appeared in a role.

“What do you think, Tom?” Neelix searched Tom’s face for a clue to his verdict. 

What Tom thought was that he could really use a beer right now to take away the taste of Neelix’s leola-laced blood pudding. He’d had more than enough leola root lately. He’d used so many rations to set up the Fair Haven program, that for weeks now, it had been Neelix’s food or nothing. 

Tom swallowed carefully. “Definitely interesting,” he said diplomatically. He placed his wooden spoon on the table and bit his lip to shut off that escape route until he could force the blood pudding down to his stomach. “Umm, it’s just that it doesn’t quite fit what I had in mind for Fair Haven. Maybe you should stick to the original recipe.”

“If you say so.” Neelix’s whiskers sagged in the heat of the kitchen at the Ox and Lamb. He was sure that the extra touch of leola root was just the thing to spice up this traditional dish. But Tom was adamant about keeping things in Fair Haven authentic. 

“I guess I’ll have to expand my culinary skills some other way.” Neelix shuffled through the pages of hand-written notes that Ryan, the owner of the Ox and Lamb, had given him. None of the remaining recipes captured his attention. “Scotland is pretty close to Ireland, isn’t it, Tom?” he asked. “Maybe I can try one of their recipes. I heard about an interesting dish called ‘haggis’.”

‘Haggis’ didn’t sound particularly appealing to Tom. But, any food without leola root in it was a step in the right direction. He clapped Neelix encouragingly on the shoulder. “Whatever! I’ll tell Ryan that you have a cousin visiting from Glasgow. Just remember that old Fair Haven saying, ‘No leola is good leola’.” 

“I thought it was ‘We’re all friends’?”

“That too,” Tom agreed. “If you don’t need me any more, I’m going to head over to the pub for a pint of beer.”

“Give me a minute and I’ll join you. Why don’t you wait outside where it’s cooler? I won’t be long.”

Neelix might enjoy standing over the hot stove in the old-fashioned kitchen. The temperature outside the inn was much more to Tom’s taste. He stepped away from the building to catch the cooling breeze in the village square. 

Fair Haven had turned out even better than he expected. Everything from the brightly painted shutters, to the collection of eccentric villagers, to the pub’s worn stone steps, spoke of authenticity seasoned with charm. Tom took a great pride in Fair Haven. He considered it his personal responsibility to keep village affairs running smoothly. Villagers and visiting Voyager personnel sought out his help. Tom liked the feeling it gave him when people turned to him for advice. 

A stir of activity over at the pub caught his attention. Some of the women on the crew were making a night of it. Lydia Anderson and Mariah Henley had just gone in. Jenny and Megan trailed in after them with Sandra Peterson, Sue Nicoletti, Amanda Porter and even Seven of Nine not far behind. 

Tom looked around for Harry to invite him to join the social scene. Harry was off to one side of the square talking to Maggie O’Halloran. Tom caught Harry’s eye and jerked his head in the direction of the pub. Harry shook his head. He pulled a small box of candy out of his pocket and presented it to Maggie. 

Tom frowned. That candy wasn’t part of the program. He’d seen Harry replicate it in the mess hall. Not only that, Maggie O’Halloran had a fiancé. Tom remembered programming him, a rather burly pig farmer with a very big rake. Now that Tom thought about it, Maggie’s pig farmer hadn’t been around for days. Tom did a quick memory check. Michael Sullivan’s wife, Frannie, had gone missing too. What was going on?

“Seamus!” 

An angry voice and the sound of running feet interrupted Tom’s thoughts. 

The running feet belonged to the village mooch, Seamus. He came round a corner, huffing and puffing. “Tommy Boy, do a soul a favor will you, don’t tell the missus which way I went.”

“No problem. I’ll just close my eyes until you’re gone.”

“Bless you!”

Seamus pushed Tom aside and ran past him into the inn. Moments later, Seamus’s long-suffering wife came around the corner, brandishing her second-best frying pan. 

“Seamus, you old fool, don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to. Just wait ‘til I get my hands on you!” 

She stopped in confusion when she didn’t see Seamus scurrying ahead of her across the square. “Seamus! Seamus? Now where did the old goat get to? I thought for sure he’d head for the pub,” she explained to Tom. “There hasn’t been time enough for him to get all the way across the square. Tommy, did you see where he went?”

“Noooo,” Tom answered truthfully, “I can’t say that I saw where he went. What’s he done this time? Been drinking too much again?”

“You’d think that’s all he would have energy for at his age, wouldn’t you? He’s been spending time with that blonde hussy. ‘Just playing rings in the pub’ he tells me. Well just wait ‘till I get my hands on him, and that brazen hussy too. I’ll give her a piece of my mind, and a piece of this fry pan too!”

“Maybe you misunderstood his intentions. Maybe he was just being friendly.”

“Now isn’t that just your way? You may be a prankster but you’ve a heart of gold, always trying to fix things for people. No, Tommy, you can’t make excuses for him this time.” She pushed up her sleeve and tightened her grip on her frying pan. Thus prepared, she stalked off. Fortunately for Seamus, it was in the wrong direction. 

“I’m all set, Tom.” 

Tom turned back around to the inn when he heard Neelix’s voice. “That was fast!”

Neelix fell in beside him. “I told you that there wasn’t much to do.” The two of them started to walk across the open square to the pub. “Would you care to join me in a game of rings?” Neelix asked. 

“I thought you’d challenged the Doctor to a game?”

“I did, but he cancelled on me. He had confessions to hear.”

“Oh? I’m surprised that he’s still devoting time to that part of his priestly duties. He seemed pretty annoyed when I told him that confessions were confidential and he couldn’t gossip about what he’d heard later on at the pub.” 

Neelix laughed. “He certainly was annoyed! But he found out that the villagers confided more of their secrets when he stopped blabbing about them, so he doubled his hours. He tells me that he’s now privy to what he calls ‘all the juicy stuff’. According to him, hearing confessions in Fair Haven is better than watching a soap opera.” 

“A soap opera? Oh right, the programs that you and Kes found when Voyager was pulled into the past. What was the one you told me about called? ‘All my Relatives’?”

“One More World,“ Neelix corrected him. 

Tom stopped at the bottom of the pub steps, his sense of humor tickled by the idea of Fair Haven as a period soap opera. “Well, if this is a soap opera, it should have an Irish name. How about, ‘Ryan’s Home?” 

Just then Seamus burst out of the pub, shot down the stairs and ducked around a corner. Seconds later, Seamus’s wife followed on his heels, still brandishing her fry pan. 

“How about ‘The Over-Sexed and the Desperate’?” Neelix asked.

Tom laughed so hard that he had to hold onto the railing to keep his footing as he climbed the stairs. 

Tom was still laughing when he got back to his quarters that night. Of course he’d had to come up with something to top Neelix’s ‘Over-Sexed’ title. Sue heard them and joined in. After that, the whole pub got involved. ‘The Over-Sexed and the Desperate’ ended up being one of the tamer soap opera titles they came up with. 

Tom pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. He’d have to share the better ones with B'Elanna. He wished she’d been there. It was a shame that Harry had missed the fun too. There was something disturbing about the fact that he’d turned down real female companionship to spend time with a holocharacter. What was even more troubling was that Tom had figured out what happened to Maggie’s pig farmer fiancé … and to Frannie Sullivan. 

His mind was whirling and while Tom slept his thoughts tumbled and churned, melding into a jangled dream of fun house images. 

 

In his dream Tom found himself standing outside sickbay. The door opened and he stepped into his father’s office. A vase of flowers from Maggie’s flower stand sat on top of the admiral’s desk. In front of the vase a sign read, ‘Ensign Tom, Advice to the Lovelorn’. The office door opened again and this time the Doctor came in carrying a large mailbag, stuffed with letters. The Doctor didn’t say a word - couldn’t actually. Thick strips of tape crisscrossed his mouth. He pushed a letter into Tom’s hand, picked a flower from the vase and walked out of the room through a wall. 

Tom sat down at the desk to read the letter. 

 

*Dear Ensign Tom,

I am serving on a Starfleet ship in the Delta Quadrant. For the sake of privacy, I will not name the ship. Like you, I am a lowly ensign. Unlike you, Captain Kathryn did not promise me that if I work hard, I can be a lieutenant someday soon. My career prospects suck. 

Ensign Tom, my love life sucks too. I don’t know why, but a lot of the ladies I choose turn out to have poor taste in men. I found this really beautiful hologram, intelligent, athletic. She sounds perfect, right? No, she preferred Tuvok, of all people. Mind you, we found out that she was an alien who’d infiltrated the holodeck, so maybe that explains it. 

It’s hard to build a long-term relationship with any of the aliens that we meet along the way. We’re in kind of a hurry and don’t stay in one place very long. It’s also a drag that I have to tell the Doctor and the Captain if I plan to do more than hold hands, I mean, what a way to kill the mood! It’s hard to convince anyone out here that a one-way trip out of the quadrant is a super idea. Did I mention that getting official clearance really spoils the romantic mood? 

I tried dating some of the crew on the ship. No luck there either. Take the Delaney sisters for example. There are two of them, so I flipped a coin, heads or tails. It was just my luck that it landed on heads and I settled on the twin who isn’t interested in me. 

We’re going to be in the Delta Quadrant for a long time. I’m not sure how long because that number keeps changing, just like the number of crew on the ship. I do know that it’s going to be a while before my dating options open up. 

So anyway, I’m back to holograms again. A hologram is a good choice for a mate because she never ages. Most holograms don’t go on away missions either, so she won’t get killed like Lyndsay Ballard. 

I recently met a holographic flower seller. Her name is Maggie. She’s cute as a button and doesn’t have wooden teeth. I deleted her boy friend in order to open up the field. I don’t want to mess this up, especially since the Captain is hanging around with a holographic character too. I can see the idea catching on with the crew and spreading through all the decks. I don’t want to wait and risk having more competition for Maggie’s affections. 

How can I win Maggie and achieve lasting bliss?

Sincerely,  
Ensign Harry*

 

Tom muttered in his sleep and fought his way to consciousness. He rolled out of bed and stumbled across his quarters to get a glass of water. 

When he had his bearings again, he tried to make sense out of the surreal images in his dream. Maybe his sub-conscious was telling him that he should step in and do something before Harry gets too involved with Maggie. Didn’t Harry learn his lesson with Marayma? He should know by now that you can’t find lasting love on the holodeck. 

“Maybe I should delete Maggie’s character?” Tom asked himself. He considered the pros and cons of that option as he made his way back to bed. “No. That’s too drastic. I could alter the character’s subroutines though; change her into an old man with a beard. Hmmm, maybe even a horse.” Now that would make Harry come to his senses and realize that this was just another holo-fantasy. “Whoa, Tom,” he told himself. “As the Captain once pointed out, Harry’s a big boy now and can take care of himself.” 

But much as he tried not to be overprotective, Tom couldn’t help thinking of Harry as a younger brother. “Maybe a cow,” Tom murmured as he drifted off to sleep. 

 

Colors rearranged themselves into images and Tom was again in his father’s office. This time, a bunch of red balloons floated above the desk. The Doctor stomped in, shoved another letter into Tom’s hand, climbed up a balloon string and disappeared through the ceiling. 

Tom opened the letter and sat down to read. 

 

*Dear Ensign Tom, 

According to one of the Doctor’s many numbered maxims, it is incumbent upon me to inform you that I no longer intend to participate in your Fair Haven program. I have mastered all the social lessons available in the holoprogram. Seamus’s wife even offered to present me with the gift of a frying pan to honor my success in engaging in casual conversation with her husband. I see no further need to continue with these exercises. 

You may not realize that my knowledge of human emotion was limited when I came on board the ship. Pairing me with Tuvok and the Doctor, two others on Voyager with similarly restricted experience with human feelings, often served to mask my lack of expertise in this area. I believe that having the Doctor instruct me in social skills was intended to be a humorous device. I have heard this referred to as ‘the blind leading the blind’. 

I gained confidence in my social and emotional development by spending time with Naomi Wildman. Her lack of maturity and her willingness to look up to me as a role model cast my still developing social and emotional skills in a favorable light. Unfortunately, she is the only juvenile currently on board the ship. This limits my opportunities to shine as an example of mature, human wisdom – unless I wish to continue to spend an inordinate amount of time playing Kadis-kot. However, this situation may soon be remedied with the acquisition of additional under-aged companions for me to mentor. 

You have witnessed my improved social skills on several occasions. Even though I am still frequently puzzled by the need to apologize for ‘insensitive’ behavior, I have mastered the art of radiating offense when my own feelings are hurt. I have been informed that it is bad form to walk away when others are trying to apologize to me. I will attempt to correct this error. 

My prospects for romance will soon change. Despite a fail-safe mechanism in my cortical node that no one is yet aware of, I will soon remember that I once had a romantic relationship with a fellow Borg. How this is possible and why I am currently unaware of any of this would require the invention of several new technical terms. Fortunately, since it is often assumed that your preference for plain language indicates an inability to follow complex thinking, it is not necessary for me to create an explanation for you at this time.

After I recover my lost memories, I will also recover my emotional attachment to this drone. I will, however, quickly abandon all thoughts of waiting for my lost love. Perhaps absence does not ‘make the heart grow fonder’ after all. Instead I will choose to follow the example of others on the ship, notably Ensign Kim and Captain Janeway, and engage in a romantic relationship with a holographic character. I understand that many consider it inappropriate to use the physical parameters of a real person to create a hologram. However, since no one else complies with this rule, I see no reason to for me to do so either. 

Meanwhile I will conserve my energy for my work and limit my social activities to those that demonstrate, in some way, that I am better at being human than the rest of you. 

There is no need for me to hide my identity. I am, of course, Seven of Nine, Primary Adjunct of the astrophysics lab. Voyager is now my collective. 

PS: I hope that you enjoy the balloons. Red is my favorite color. * 

 

Tom awoke with a start, gasping for air. 

“What the? Whoa! Maybe? No, no, nope, nope, no!” 

Tom wasn’t touching this one with a nine-meter pole! He shook his head to get rid of the cobwebs, and the remnants of his dream. He pulled his pillow over his ears, rolled over and scrunched his eyes to force sleep to return as quickly as possible. 

 

The admiral’s desk was piled high with plush toy animals. Tom sat behind the desk with a huge stuffed dog on his lap. The Doctor strode in and harrumphed at Tom through the tape over his mouth. He tapped his foot impatiently until Tom pushed aside the stuffed toys and took the letter from him. The Doctor morphed into a large, stuffed peacock and flew out the window. 

Tom opened his letter with some misgivings. 

 

*Dear Ensign Tom,

I am in charge of a valiant vessel that has been thrown seventy thousand light-years away from home. You can see that my command didn’t start off on a high note. With so many of the crew ticked off at me for getting them stranded, my options for romance were limited from the very beginning. 

Maybe I shouldn’t have integrated the Maquis into the crew so quickly. Those rebel leathers were sexy and it wouldn’t have hurt to take a month or two to get to know them better before getting tied up with protocol and the chain of command. Oh well, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Back then I still had illusions about seeing my old boyfriend again. 

Being ‘The Captain’ has turned out to be a bust in the romance department. Who knew that opportunities would be so limited with a whole quadrant at my feet? Please note Ensign Harry’s comment about the difficulty in interesting suitable candidates in a one-way journey across the galaxy. There is also a big problem with sexism in this part of the galaxy. Potential love interests expect me to sacrifice my job and settle on their planet - like that pleasure-seeking official with the French accent and the rather odd halo around his head. 

There was one alien who claimed that he was willing to leave his job and join me on my ship. However, I will not dignify the memory of that manipulative conniver by discussing him further in this letter. The fact that you had just been released from thirty days in the brig when we came across him, should serve to blot him from your memory too.

Any mention of sex complicates matters greatly. When I pretended to be a prostitute in order to rescue my crew, the echoes of outrage reached all the way back to the Alpha Quadrant. 

I did get to wear a slinky dress once. That was in a holoprogram. The dress was tasteless, mind you, but definitely sexy. It’s a good thing that I drink my coffee black and seldom eat food. Otherwise there would have been zero chance of fitting into that costume. I have to admit that when the program started, it was a lot of fun. But then the storyline stuck me with a fiancé who was as tasteless as my dress. He was also a self-absorbed, pompous bore. 

Ensign Tom, I’ve finally found what may well turn out to be my last, best chance for love. I met a charming holographic character in an Irish village. He’s a bartender, but he doesn’t drink. He was a bit too short and he didn’t like poetry. I fixed all of that. I got rid of the wife too. I do have standards to uphold. He’s perfect now. (I think it is the fact that I can’t reprogram my First Officer that has sidelined that relationship.) 

Ensign Tom, I’m still not satisfied. I’m unhappy because I could do anything I want to him and nobody could stop me. I can do that already! I can blow up the entire ship, single-handedly, any time I want. All I have to do is initiate the self-destruct sequence. It is a definite power trip. I had to stop doing it though, or the ship would not have made it as far as it has. 

Getting back to my love life, what can I do now? Ensign Tom, I need answers.  
Sincerely,  
Captain Kathryn 

PS When you answer my letter, remember that I’m the one who took your lieutenant’s pip away and threw you in the brig. So watch it!*

 

It was well into morning when Tom crawled out of bed, glad that his dreams were finally over. They’d kept getting weirder and weirder! Tom checked the ship’s chronometer. It was later than he’d thought. He’d better skip the mess hall this morning. 

Tom went through his morning routine, somewhat distracted by thoughts about his last dream. He wasn’t as freaked out as some members of the crew might have been. He’d learned a lot about women from his friendship with Sandrine Gaspard. She was a hardheaded, competent businesswoman who ran a profitable establishment and could hold her own with unruly customers twice her size. She was also a caring, generous friend, a sensual woman with no need to prove herself to anyone. 

So when Tom looked at the Captain, he saw past the uniform to the vibrant woman who had wants and needs and was fully alive in every sense of the word. He included her in his jokes. He laughed when she gave back as good as she got. He was happy for her when she was happy. That didn’t mean that he didn’t get pissed with her sometimes. Those thirty days in the brig had been no picnic. But when you cared about someone, when you had a bond, you didn’t cut loose just because you hit a bad patch. 

Tom was okay with the idea that she might need somebody like Michael Sullivan, at least for a while. That being settled, he gulped the rest of his replicated coffee, did his last-minute uniform check and headed up to the bridge for his shift. 

 

Several mornings later, Fair Haven was in shambles. With the ship in danger, Kathryn Janeway had done what she had to do. She put the safety of her ship and crew first. The Fair Haven program crashed when they had to shut it down without time to run the proper shut down sequence. Now, the Michael Sullivan program, the one she cared about, could be lost forever. 

Tom met Harry on the holodeck. What was left of the program was up and running. The damage was obvious. The Ox and Lamb and several other buildings were sheared off like giant, back-less dollhouses. A deep gash marred the sky. Some of the village characters faded in and out. Some were gone completely. With this much damage, there wasn’t much that Tom could salvage. 

Harry had his own ideas about what to keep in the program. “So, are you going to save Maggie?” he asked Tom hopefully after they’d been working for a while. 

“I’ll try. I can’t promise anything yet. A lot of people have asked about their personal favorites. Neelix put in a request for the Ox and Lamb this morning at breakfast. Once I have a full inventory of the damaged subroutines, I’ll start working on a plan,” Tom explained while checking over his readings. He would have done better to save his breath.

“C’mon, Tom. You know that Fair Haven wouldn’t be Fair Haven without Maggie and her flower stand,” Harry tried to sound nonchalant. Tom wasn’t buying it for a minute.

“With that gorgeous red hair … and that cute smile …” Harry looked decidedly dreamy-eyed. 

Tom added a few more readings and then shut down his tricorder. “We’re done here, Harry.” 

“What? Oh, sure. Right! So, once you’ve compiled a complete inventory of the damages, you’ll be able to figure out how to reconstruct the program.”

“That’s what I said five minutes ago, Harry,”

“Oh!” Harry said awkwardly. “Well, I’d better get ready for my shift.”

Tom stayed behind and let his friend exit the holodeck ahead of him. Harry sure had it bad. 

Tom took a last look around at the crackling remnants of his program. There was one other person who had a stake in what happened to Fair Haven. After watching Michael get drunk and shout his love for the Captain in front of a crowd of Voyager crewmen, Tom doubted that she would come to him to ask him to save Michael. She wouldn’t do anything that would indicate to the crew that she in any way returned Michael’s feelings. 

Tom used to think that, of the two of them, Kathryn Janeway was the lucky one. Edward Janeway protected his family’s privacy and raised his children in Indiana, far removed from the demands of Starfleet. Starfleet was a job, an occasional intrusion not an everyday reality. Work was work and family was family, two very separate parts of life. 

Now Tom wasn’t so sure how lucky she really was. Out here in the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn couldn’t leave Captain Janeway behind her on the ship and go home to Indiana. On a ship this small, she couldn’t even sit down and relax with a friend without a shipload of crew wondering what she was up to. 

The Parises had a different approach to family life. For several generations, they had married within Starfleet and raised their families within Starfleet. If they hadn’t worked out how to combine a personal life with a Starfleet career, the Paris name would have died out years ago. In a way, Tom’s difficult family heritage was also a gift. Tom hadn’t even thought about getting married until B’Elanna. But it never occurred to him to reject the idea of marriage out of any concern for Starfleet protocol. 

Kathryn Janeway was trapped inside her self-imposed restrictions. Okay, so Michael Sullivan couldn’t be a ‘forever’ relationship. What was so wrong with a ‘for now’ substitute? Michael was the closest that she had come in ages to setting aside her rank pips and really letting down her hair. She deserved to have a say in what happened to him. 

Tom shut down the program and left the holodeck. 

Kathryn Janeway was in her ready room, getting ready for the day. She was a little sad that they’d lost Fair Haven so soon. She’d enjoyed being with Michael, taking walks, sharing poetry, finding companionship with a man she cared about. For a while, she had a break from being Captain. 

Over the years, Kathryn had sometimes wondered if she should have turned down the assignment to Voyager and stayed with Mark in the Alpha Quadrant. Her answer to that question was always ‘no’. If being the Captain of Voyager meant that she sometimes felt lonely, that was a price she was willing to pay. In the middle of this particular moment of loneliness, the beep of the pad outside her door signaled that someone was waiting to see her. 

“Enter.”

Tom Paris strode into her ready room with the self-assurance of a man on a mission. 

“Fair Haven didn’t fair too well.”

Kathryn took the news stoically. “I’ll inform the crew.”

“Harry says that we can save about ten percent of the elements in the program. I thought you might have a suggestion or two.” The look that accompanied his message was full of meaning. His eyes were warm with a tacit invitation to save as much as she wanted of Michael Sullivan’s program. 

Kathryn froze when she realized what he was telling her. He knew. Tom knew what Michael Sullivan meant to her just as he probably knew why she had made all those changes to Michael’s subroutines. 

Tom stood in front of her, waiting patiently. He didn’t intrude. He didn’t say anything more. He just waited.

Captain Janeway of Voyager, responsible for the Federation’s farthest flung starship and for all the lives she carried on her, looked up at her helmsman, former lieutenant, now ensign, chief medic and talented amateur holoprogrammer. 

Kathryn Janeway looked up at her friend and smiled.


End file.
